You Might Have To Pry

Have you ever wanted to say something like this to someone near and dear to you?

If ever you become aware of me being different, please, ask me what’s wrong.

Usually I will outright tell you, long before it becomes noticeable that something is awry, but if I go quiet, it is because it is hard for me to talk about it. If you’ll ask me, and keep at me until you get to the heart of it, I think it would help.

Sometimes we don’t like to talk about our problems, especially if we think they’ll go away.

You might have to pry, but I think it will be worth it. If it is to the point that you notice it, and you ignore it, then we are both ignoring it, and it is not likely to get better.

And please be prepared for the possibility that the problem might be you.

Love, changing like the tides…but still love.

From “Gift From The Sea” by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.

Marriage and Pina Coladas

I was thinking about how “marriage” has always in essence meant, up until recent attempts by some to change the definition, a contract between a man and a woman.

If it’s not a man and a woman in the contract, it’s something else, but it ain’t marriage.

I think of it like this:

There are two necessary ingredients that make a pina colada:  pineapple and coconut.

If you mix pineapple and pineapple, it is not a pina colada.

If you mix coconut and coconut, it is not a pina colada.

Pineapple and pineapple may be suitable for those who have never met a coconut that moves them.

Likewise, coconut and coconut may be the perfect tonic for one who prefers to avoid pineapple for whatever reason.

People are free to enjoy whichever drink refreshes them, but please don’t call coconut and coconut or pineapple and pineapple a “pina colada”, because without the two necessary ingredients for pina colada, it’s not a pina colada.

pina colada
Cheers!

Unspoken Words of Passive Aggression

Because you loved me so much that you gladly did everything for me, I took full advantage of that.

Yes, I realize it became burdensome after awhile, when you carried more children in your womb and still had to work full time, but my expectations were set in place, and  woe unto you if you don’t continue at that impossible pace, because I am the king of your life, now that I own you as your husband.

Yes, I do believe that.

I believe you are trapped and won’t even try to leave me.

You’ve been through divorce before and you don’t want to go through starting over again on your own.

What do you mean you don’t feel it is fair for me to lie around all day while you work?

Hey, I work too, and my job is more important than yours.  I work manual labor, and if I don’t get enough rest, I could have an accident on the job.

Come on, don’t be silly – YOU don’t need sleep as much as I do.  Your job is right here at home.

So you’re stressed to the max.

So you’ve ended up with adrenal burnout and further stress could easily push you into more life-threatening illness.

So you make mistakes in the medical reports you type.

So they will terminate your contract if you have too many errors.

So we won’t be able to pay our bills.

All that matters is that I get to spend 10+ hours in bed, and that any hours I’m not at work I am to be on the couch with my mistress — the TV — flicking the remote at her when she doesn’t do what I want.

If you can’t survive on six to seven hours in bed, that’s not my problem.

It’s not my responsibility to help with the household chores when you are working on your paying job.  You can stay up a few more hours to complete them.  It’s not killed you yet.

I help once in awhile.  So what if it’s not consistent?  I expect you to do everything, remember?

Oh, I’ll never speak of this to you.  I know you are sensitive enough and smart enough to interpret it without me having to say a word.

And if you even try to “work things out”, I will pull a pout, make immature and unreasonable comments, and storm off, leaving you feeling worse than you felt before you dared to upset my perfect world.

What?  Someone else might win your affection?  As long as you stay here and take care of me, that doesn’t bother me.

What?  You might not always stay here?

Well, when that happens, I will believe it, my heart will be broken, I will mourn the loss of the most excellent woman to have ever entered my life, and I will feel that life is as futile as you must feel it is right now.

When You Love Someone

Quote

From “Gift From The Sea” by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.